


Where You Lay Your Head

by adorabias



Series: Home Is [2]
Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, M/M, Smartass Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorabias/pseuds/adorabias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For those who have ever wondered how the Liesmith finds his home. Peter Parker swears that he didn’t sign up for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Lay Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> And here is the sequel to Where the Heart Is. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

How was he supposed to know?

Seriously, Peter thought that they should seriously cut him some slack for not realizing that hey, maybe the rest of the team might not have known that their friendly neighborhood Iron Man was seeing the God of Mischief and Chaos on the side. Sure, they were off in different parts of the world at different intervals, but come on. He would’ve bet his allowance (if he got one and why didn’t he get one again?) that Clint spent at least 75% of his time in the Stark Tower air vents and that Natasha knew everything about everyone including what kind of boxers Steve was wearing that day.

The glare that she was suddenly giving him from across the living room was making him wonder if she was a mind reader too.

However he was suddenly clued in on the situation when Steve, who actually struck Peter as kind of more of a briefs guy, intervened and tapped his pen to the notepad in his hands, “Okay, okay, so we can add that to the list. No leaving bad guys for other team members to clean up.”

“That was one time,” the teenager grumbled and shifted in his seat, knocking knees with the God of Thunder seated next to him, who was analyzing one spot on the wall very intently.

Peter wondered if he should apologize to him later.

Because really,  _really_ , how was he supposed to know that his off-hand ‘Mom and Dad’ comment would bring about what was essentially the equivalent of a family meeting for the Avengers?

Very few people seemed to actually be into it, apart from Steve who was designated the official scribe because he was the only one in the team who actually kept a notebook relatively close at hand, even though Tony grumbled something about hating paper.

The billionaire in question who was at least partially responsible – mostly? Peter wanted to say he was mostly responsible, actually – for this mess was lounging in his comfortable recliner, hardly even paying attention to what everyone was saying, perhaps a little too preoccupied with the Trickster that was perched on the arm of the seat, leaning back into it perhaps a little too leisurely. Loki was also rather too comfortable with the arrangement, completely at ease.

He was also the only one in the room, apart from the God of Thunder that had probably spaced out as soon as they mentioned paperwork, who seemed to be able to afford such a luxury.

Clint hadn’t taken his sights off of Loki since he had materialized in the room after Tony whined enough, probably even more on edge when he realized that the Liesmith might peek into their business and privacy on a more-than-regular basis. Peter was certain that it had been a good three minutes since he had last blinked. Natasha was almost the picture of ease, if not for the fact that her legs were crossed. It was something that she must’ve picked up from Miss Potts, Peter realized, because otherwise Natasha’s feet were both set upon the ground as if ready to make a run for it at any given notice.

Steve’s shoulders were completely tense and tight, the strain in his fingers making his handwriting just that much more compact. With his jaw set the way it was, there was no doubt that he was as much of a fan of the situation as the next Avenger, but the leader attributes seemed to win out when he realized that this wasn’t just about Tony being reckless—this was about the way that Loki allowed the mortal to come closer to him as well as Thor’s reaction to the prospect of having his brother again. It was hard to shake the image of Thor before he turned into a temporary space case, Peter knew. There was no doubting the huge smile that spread across his lips or the way that his eyes lit up like it was Christmas—if they celebrated Christmas on Asgard.

Meanwhile Bruce was on his third kettle of tea again.

Peter just settled for watching everyone else, not sure how to feel about the idea that they seemed to be legitimately discussing the idea of letting Loki visit as he pleased—not when it was that kind of visit that lead Peter to waking up bound and upside-down one morning. Sure, his Spidey Senses weren’t going off, telling him that this was a fatal idea, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t open up about five-hundred-and-sixty-two doors that lead to drops out of two-hundred-story buildings.

“So I’m just going to shoot the elephant in the room,” he finally piped up, catching the attention of everyone in the room and pulling Thor out of his reverie. He turned his head and locked eyes with the God of Mischief, “Is this an elaborate plan to just kill us all while we sleep?”

Then the bastard smiled.

The Trickster merely titled his head a fraction, eyes dancing with amusement as his smile turned sharp, “Oohh, what keen aim. Have you been taking lessons from Agent Barton?” The tension in the room merely escalated with the addition of a dark chuckle. “What good would my word do you, young Peter Parker?”

“Because if I get a statement to go off of and you break it, I have a basis for wanting to light your pants on fire, liar liar.”

Clint tried and failed to muffle a snort.

“Did you know that they used to call me the God of Fire, foolish Peter Parker?” A slim eyebrow rose as a slight lilt punctuated the end of his question.

“Did you know that I still haven’t gotten an answer?” Peter opened his palms up to the man, trying his best not to take the bait and ruin the tenuous peace of the meeting, “I mean… are you really that afraid of making a statement? Because last I checked, you really seem to love the sound of your own voice.”

Loki actually laughed at that, his eyes narrowing in response, “It would seem as though I am not the only one. Oh, how I would delight in calling in that favor now, Parker. Perhaps I ought to request that you slit your own throat—”

The entire team shifted in response to that, even Thor’s expression becoming a little bit grimmer. Only Peter actually seemed to remain resolute, not removing his eyes from Loki’s, locked in the stare. Steve seemed ready to take initiative, opening his mouth—

“Just answer the runt’s question, Loki,” Tony sighed and cocked his head to the side, brushing the top of his head along the god’s shoulder, tilting his chin to look up at him from below. “Or else we’d have just wasted the last hour of airing our complaints at each other and I really hate wasting time.”

The god visibly stiffened, going rigid around the edges before scoffing. Eventually he waved a hand in a vague motion, appearing to regain his confidence with it as he again grinned. “No, that is not in my plans. They no longer concern your little band of misfits and the self-congratulatory antics that you decide to call heroics.”

Although he had to admit that he wasn’t a big fan of the holier-than-thou attitude (which was really hilarious when Peter actually thought to pick it apart), he just nodded vaguely and sat back against the couch. “Alright, then let us continue with our grievances and talk about how Thor never does laundry.”

However Loki actually laughed in response to that.

“Oh you are just so quick to accept your answer and run, aren’t you, Parker?” He gave another toothy grin. “How heroic. It is nice to see that you are truly making great attempts at joining this team. They so dearly need another bright-eyed, loud-mouthed young lad among their ranks like they need a bullet in the brain.”

Peter bit his tongue and said nothing, instead just keeping his brown eyes locked with green.

That was when he decided that he hated Loki.

 

* * *

 

Nothing changed after the meeting.

That was the weird part.

The only thing that actually punctuated the fact that Loki was hanging around Stark Tower more often now was the fact that Bruce was rapidly depleting the cupboards of tea, which is something that Natasha almost complained about before the scientist gave her a long, tired look.

(“Natasha,” he had sighed.

She simply nodded. “I know this store downtown that just got this new Japanese blend.”)

Other than that, everything seemed to go on with business as usual. The Avengers wandered in and out of the tower like it had a rotating door, Tony and Peter stuck there the most due to the fact that they also worked there. It adjusted to the point that Miss Potts even started asking for Loki to take memos to Tony. That might’ve actually been the weirdest part.

So it was sometime during the third week that Peter finished his homework early for once (it was probably the fact that there were no English assignments that week) and pulled out the bag that he kept his suit in. He opened it up, checked the contents to find everything he needed, threw it over his shoulder and started to exit—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Peter cursed at the fact that he had jumped, taken off-guard in a way that normally only Natasha could manage. But of course Natasha was in Rome at the moment, leaving only one person left able to surprise him.

Maybe it surprised him a little bit more to find Loki in something that wasn’t his Asgardian garments, instead dressed surprisingly plainly in a pair of green pajama pants and a black V-neck. (What the hell was it up with these gods and having to cling onto form-fitting clothes? Were they really that proud of their physique? They couldn’t convince Thor to part with the muscle shirts ever—)

“Out?” Peter managed oh so cleverly.

“Yes, I can see that. But are you even aware of what time it is? Or that you did not think to ask for permission to go?”

“Clearly time to get heckled by a Norse God,” he scoffed. “Who do you think you are? Aunt May?”

“I think that I may be the only one in this room that realizes you are due for academic learning in eight hours and twenty-seven minutes.” The ass didn’t even look at a clock. Peter made the mistake of glancing at one and realizing that Loki was right on the dot. “Tony is out for the evening, so I would advise that you take the high road, child, and return to your chambers.”

“You’re… telling me to go back to my room?” Peter ran a hand through his hair and couldn’t hide his incredulity. He actually fought against a laugh and began to make a beeline in the direction that most certainly was not his room. “Yeah, guess what’s not happening?”

“Parker. You shall return to your chambers now.”

“No, no I shan’t!” Peter turned on his heel and shrugged at Loki as he walked backwards, “Because you can’t tell me what to do!”

“I rather think I can,” the god growled at him and Peter found him a lot less menacing without all the leather and sharp edges. “For the single tenuous connection between us is in the man that you occasionally deign to call your father, so I highly advise that you revise your plans for the night so that they may be executed in your room, else he goes another sleepless night staring at blasted monitors searching the city for you.”

“Oh please!” the teenager let his jaw drop as he felt the reserved anger in the back of his flare up. “If you’re trying to act all parental, I’ll tell you right now that just isn’t your place.”

“My place, how dare you try to tell me my place.”

“Yeah! I dare because you’re trying to squeeze in here, making yourself all cozy and at home.” Peter gestured back to the god, no longer bothering to hold back on his animosity. “What are you even trying to prove? That maybe you’re not crazy? That you’ve still got a hold on things? Well maybe you’re getting coffee with Natasha, but I’m just going to keep remembering the psycho that was rampaging New York a few months ago. You sure you didn’t just enchant Mr. Stark or something into forgetting all that? Because I do believe you’re the one who threw him out the window—”

“Enough.”

Peter was forced to pause, not from the words but perhaps from the flash of something that passed through Loki’s face. He didn’t have words for it – he was never that good at English, after all – but there was something about it that was twisted, but not twisted with cruelty.

Only with pain.

He gulped.

Though perhaps all too suddenly, that glimpse was gone and suddenly everything about Loki was cold and rigid, his eyes regarding Peter with disdain. “You clearly do not know when to stop, child,” he sighed and swiped his hand in the air before forming a fist.

Peter felt a constriction in his throat.

“My place, my place, my place—oh you are just so concerned with my place, aren’t you?” he stepped forward and Peter was reminded quickly of the height at which the god stood. But his voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “But what of your place?

“Am I the one trying to fit into this world? You accuse me of that as if I do not know who I am or where I belong—I am familiar with both those things and yet you insist on projecting, Little Spider. Yet here you are, trying to crawl into every crevice and crack you can before being swept aside. Before realizing that the Avengers do not need you and you are only spending time and hope on something that simply will not be. Yet you continue on in vain, in some vague hope that they shall perhaps take pity on you and finally let you in.

“Finally give you a home.”

Loki clenched his hand further and Peter suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Then he leaned forward, coming eye to eye with the young boy and only inches away, lowering his voice and unyielding.

“This is not your home.”

The god suddenly splayed his fingers wide, the obstacle in Peter’s throat suddenly gone and he reeled back and gasped for breath, coughing and grateful to find his vocal chords and lungs in working order. Still, he looked up at the other man and sought his voice—

“Leave,” Loki cut him off. “If you are so intent upon it.”

Peter swallowed thickly, lips pursed and lacking a quick reply on his tongue for once. Then he turned on his heel and entered the elevator. The steel doors couldn’t separate him and Loki too soon.

“Mr. Parker,” JARVIS familiarly addressed him. “As per usual protocol for your late night outings, may I have an estimate on when you plan to return home?”

The word ‘home’ never hurt so much.

Finally, Peter found his voice.

“Never.”

* * *

Tony walked into his room that night, smelling of feminine perfume and wine and money and everything but himself, finding Loki sitting blankly on the bed.

His brows knit together. “This has something to do with Peter running away from home.”

The god chuckled and averted both his gaze from Tony’s face and his nose from the hideous scent of everything that was not  _his_  mortal.

“A silver tongue is well-equipped for lashings.”

* * *

Aunt May welcomed him back with open arms, open ears, and an open heart.

Peter felt some guilt in the way that her expression was immediately worried and concerned as she found a scrape on his cheek and how he flinched slightly when her hand wandered too close to his neck.

As per usual, with amazing Aunt May, she didn’t ask and just put on the kettle.

“So are you not going to be staying with Mr. Stark anymore?” she had to ask as he sat down on the couch in the living room, fingers laced together and hunched over his knees.

“Uh…” Peter tightened his intertwined fingers, biting his lips before shaking his head even though she was in the kitchen and couldn’t see. “No…. No, I don’t think I will. He’s… doing alright now, said I could go… home…”

The word was just haunting him tonight.

That’s when Aunt May came in with a tray and two cups of tea, “Well good, it’s been a little quiet around here without you even though Steve comes to visit sometimes.”

“Yeah?” he laughed quietly, “What do you talk about? Marlin Brando?”

“Oh hush you,” she chastised and guided the teacup into his hand, encouraging him to drink it and put his mouth to better use than giving her sass.

Peter obscured his smile with the teacup and watched the woman who raised him as she took her own tea. She was tired and it was obvious that he had woken her up and while it was selfish… he couldn’t help but feel glad that she didn’t even hesitate to stay up for him and make him some tea.

Still, he had to note on account on his hypersensitive taste buds- “Is this new, Aunt May? I don’t drink tea often but…. I don’t think I’ve ever had this one before.”

“Mm!” she nodded and gave him a smile, “I ran into that sweet Natasha girl when I was shopping one day. Oh she was a dear and pointed this out to me. ‘From Japan?’ I said to her, but she just nodded and gave me a smile. ‘Trust me.’ Oh, she was right, this is perfectly calming. Great tranquilizer—you should be off to bed in no time.”

The edge of Peter’s lips quirked in what he hoped was a smile, at least slightly drawing away from the sadness in his eyes. It was already too soon to remember what he had lost. In the months that he had spent at Stark Tower, they were less like teammates and more like—

“Family,” Aunt May startled him as she looked directly at him, “can tell when something is wrong, Peter. Now you don’t have to tell me… I know better than anyone that it’s impossible to force you to do anything. But you should know that whatever it is that’s chasing you…

“You’re capable of taking it on. You always have been and always will be.”

Then she gave a nod and finished her tea and began clearing her place, motioning for him to stay seated as she took the tray back into the kitchen.

Peter just watched, waving good night to her as she passed him to walk up the stairs and head into her bedroom—the bedroom that he used to run to every time that something was ‘chasing him’ in his dreams turned sour. It was interesting that this was the place that he had lived in for most of his life and Aunt May – Aunt May with graying hair and frail wrists as she lifted her hand to smother a yawn – was the one who took care of him most of his life.

And she did not know what he was or who he was.

This placed housed the very beginnings of his double-life, the old crinkly wallpaper had watched him build a plethora of gadgets, and in it he had first constructed the idea of perhaps being something more than just a gangly teenager. He’d learned about responsibility.

But there was so much still that he couldn’t do.

He couldn’t use his web shooter to grab the potato chips from the counter before Thor finished all of them off. He couldn’t just climb along the walls and ceilings to come up with new hiding spots when he and Clint were ‘stealth training’. Even his enhanced sight wouldn’t enable him to catch Natasha’s sly, small, sincere smiles from here. There was no way to call Bruce when he felt a new tingling sensation and have the man help run full-body scans to settle Peter’s nightmares of turning into a full spider.

The old grandfather clock chimed to let him know it was 1 AM.

(“Sirs, it is officially 1 AM EST. Mr. Parker, you should begin preparing for school in 6 hours. May I advise taking time to sleep now?”

“Oh JARVIS, you’re such a worry-wart.” Peter ducked to avoid being hit by the wrench that Tony was swinging around, the mechanic’s eyes still firmly set on their latest creation. “Seriously, just let the kid stay up a few more hours.”

“In a few more hours, he ought to be taking his breakfast, sir.”

“Come on, JARVIS,” Peter laughed and adjusted his goggles as a spark flew at him, “Dad said I could stay up.”

Tony scoffed and pulled back from the machine, hands set on his hips as he raised a brow at the kid even from behind his safety glasses. “Alright so now who’s enjoying the metaphor a little too much?”

The teenager didn’t seem at all sorry, merely giving Tony a thumbs-up.

“Father of the Year.”)

Peter got up and decided it was time for bed, leaving the rest of his tea to go cold.

It was too bitter for his taste.

* * *

The teacup wasn’t there that morning, and neither was Aunt May. Peter took the time to realize that oh yes, it was Friday… and he had no intention of reporting to school that day. So he went through the familiar routine of getting himself cereal but in an unfamiliar kitchen, completely lacking in Steve’s delicious omelets and Clint sitting on the counter until Natasha snapped at him enough and Thor’s great big good morning greeting—

“Parker! Young Peter Parker, might you be dwelling at this residence this morning?”

Oh… well, there was at least one part of his morning.

Even if the sudden thundering voice calling through the front door nearly made him choke on his spoon.

So he instead caught the silverware between his teeth before setting it down and opened the door, half-expecting it to be some sort of hideous prank. Instead he came face to face with a Norse God—dressed down in civilian clothes which clearly meant a muscle shirt and a pair of jeans.

The frequent curious and befuddled look on Thor’s face disappeared a moment later, a bright grin stretching across his lips as he bounded forward and wrapped his arms around Peter. “Young Parker!” he bellowed, laughing as he did so and lifting the boy right off the ground. “‘tis good to see you, friend.”

“Thor,” Peter struggled to breathe when his face was being shoved into a bicep, “We were just playing Mario Kart last night.”

The Avenger laughed again, which only smothered Peter a bit more. He didn’t release the boy soon enough as he gasped for air when set down. But Thor seemed to pay no mind as he simply gave a large grin, “Indeed! And you are a valiant opponent with keen aim when armed with a shell. However! That is not what has brought me here today. All the same, we were all made aware of your absence at the morning feast. The Man of Iron begrudgingly told us of what transpired the night before.”

Peter couldn’t help but wince a bit at that, recalling the strangling feeling that was still far too close to memory. “Oh… Did he?”

The boy’s dampened expression seemed to alert Thor of the situation and the Norse God merely nodded. It was at a time like that that Peter couldn’t help but notice that despite all the jokes made in his expense, Thor was really just a nice guy who sometimes just took a little bit longer to notice things. Then he wondered how obvious his mood was if it was enough for even the normally slightly-dense to pick up on.

“Aye.” Then those big blue eyes sought out to meet Peter’s when the teenager looked up at him again hesitantly. “So I had thought that it was my responsibility as Loki’s brother to implore you to come back home, Parker.”

Stiffening a bit, Peter bit the inside of his cheek before blowing out a breath, “Well… okay, I’m just going to mention really quick that Loki doesn’t even treat you like his brother—” And he cut off the rest of his criticisms when he noticed the slight hurt in Thor’s eyes. “And I know that you guys are still working that out but… why should I even bother going back to the Tower, Thor?”

The God knit his brows together as his lips quirked downward, betraying his confusion. “What are you talking about, Young Parker? The Tower has been your home for the past few months, has it not?”

“It has not,” Peter sighed and tried to rein in his frustration. “It has been the place where I’m being scrutinized for being myself, where I’m hanging out with you guys and trust me, that’s great but—I’m not an Avenger yet I’m on the Avengers floor. That’s… That’s not home, Thor. It’s not where I—”

“It is where you have laughed and played with us, my friend!” And Peter could see the confusion and inability to understand settling in Thor’s gaze. “It is where we have watched the animated pictures of Disney, where we have enjoyed the toasted strudel, and where you have come to help mend our wounds.”

“Yeah! And that’s great! But… But Thor—It’s not where I belong. It’s where I’m… in line to belong, if that makes sense.”

“Nay…” And Thor frowned as he tilted his head to the side, “Nay, Parker, it does not. For we have always treated you as one of us—”

“And that just might be it,” Peter sighed before waving a hand. “But listen Thor, I just… I can’t right now. I appreciate you stopping by but I just… I can’t, okay? I can’t go back to the tower. At least not your floor. If you want to chat sometime, you clearly know where I live—but I’m not going back there.”

The Norse God opened his mouth to speak before he noticed Peter reaching for the door and whether it was out of understanding or respect or something else entirely, he stepped back.

“Bye…” Peter sighed and closed the door, putting a barrier between him and his video game buddy.

“Farewell, Young Parker,” Thor sighed and if it weren’t for the words, Peter would’ve smiled at the way that he didn’t even have to try to project his voice through the door.

He turned to finish his now probably soggy breakfast.

“But if I may,” Thor started again and stopped Peter in his tracks. “I believe that there are times when we stray away from our home due to a quarrel, a misstep—whatever it may be, it draws us away from what we care for most. You may take your time, Parker… but I am certain that you shall return to us.

“For we all agree that it simply is not the same without you.”

Peter swallowed quietly and listened to the footsteps as Thor finally walked away. He brought his gaze up to the house—

The empty, empty house.

* * *

Two weeks later found Loki sitting at a quaint, round little table by the windowsill, chin elegantly propped up in his hand and gaze lazily directed toward the bustling people on the busy street. His expression was unreadable—

“Peter’s in school right now,” Natasha hummed as she sat down across from him.

—mostly.

A thin brow arched in response to that, though he gave a slight inclination of his head to show his thanks for the latte that slid across the table to him. There was a faint rise and fall of his shoulders as he drawled, “Why you think that is of concern to me is a mystery.”

“I’m not sure why you think that it was meant for you,” Natasha quipped as her green eyes flicked to him then to the right—where her hair was tucked behind her ear, revealing one of those subtle Bluetooth devices.

Loki merely gave her a half-hearted glare before taking a sip of his drink.

“But it has been a while since he left, hasn’t it…” She gave a slow exhale that would sound like a sigh to anyone else, but to her it was just to fill the silence that would undoubtedly settle in as Loki thought of an answer.

He spoke a beat later, “Has it? His presence in the tower was hardly noticeable.”

“Is that why Stark has been locked in his lab and denying all requests for his assistance on missions since he’s been gone?”

He glared at her openly now.

“It’s a logistical concern for the team,” she traced the rim of her cup idly, tilting her head to the side just a fraction; just enough to have her hair fall over her shoulder just that bit more.

Loki did not hesitate to hide his reluctance to believe that. Since he had come to stay at the Tower—though ‘stay’ was indeed a very loose term for it—it had only further cemented Black Widow a place in his heart. That place was still toeing the line of ‘I may actually like you’ and ‘You will have to be eradicated from my presence before you are a hindrance’. Though their encounters initially began with their conversations operating on multiple layers, they slowly began to peel away—

Now they only conveyed messages on three layers on average. This still made their intentions far more obvious than usual, particularly when they were settled at the small café right across from the gaudy tower that housed them.

The boy hadn’t been merely cracking a joke when he bothered to note that Loki did seem to enjoy getting these caffeinated drinks with Natasha.

But thanks to that boy—the infuriating mortal child who was still not yet forgiven nor forgotten in Loki’s book no matter how much he liked to assert otherwise—everything had become a little stilted for the Avengers.

“Then it should be up to your leader to pry the mad scientist out,” Loki scoffed.

Tony hadn’t been out of the lab since the morning after Peter had left—

And Loki wished that he was dense enough not to notice that Tony had not once invited him down to the lab to at least share the makeshift cot with him when his brain finally slowed enough to let him rest.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly at the thought—he had sought to keep Peter from leaving for the night in order to preserve what few hours of sleep Tony normally allowed himself. Instead the prat had thrown a tantrum and escorted himself out of the building seemingly permanently, leading Tony to enter the state of mind that was typically only reserved for his creative spurts.

Leading to Loki finding less and less reason to visit the tower if he was to be treated only to an empty bed.

“Steve is picking a really bad time to be understanding,” Natasha admitted as she took another sip of her cup. “Peter suddenly leaving took a toll on him too. For one reason or another, all the guys are a little bit down in the dumps. It’s kind of like they lost their nephew or something.”

“Is that why he was so poorly raised?”

“It’s partly why I have a few regrets on being out of the country so often, yeah.”

Loki’s lip quirked a bit. He had always liked her. Nonetheless, he merely shrugged. “Surely you’re not asking me to apologize, dear Natasha.”

“Whether I am or not, you’re not going to do it,” she spoke with 100% accuracy, as per usual. “But like I said… Tony being in the lab, Bruce disappearing more often, Steve burning himself when he’s cooking—it’s a logistical concern.”

“For the team?”

“I’m part of the team.”

“My favorite part,” Loki lied expertly as he gave her a smile that would have been charming on anyone else.

She gave him a slight smile and batted her eyelashes once—”Save it for Stark.”

“If he would stop acting like a child, perhaps.”

“Well,” the Black Widow hummed as she glanced back out the window, “Perhaps we all ought to stop playing around like children.”

Very close to certain that he had just been insulted, Loki had a response on the tip of his tongue but was cut off abruptly as she stood.

“But the guy I’m shadowing is on the move, so… it’s been a pleasure, as per usual, Mr. Liesmith,” she smiled easily and didn’t even seem to have a single concern with turning her back to him as she started on her way out. Though it seemed that another thought came to her as she threw back over her shoulder to him—

“By the way, even if Stark is locking himself up and pulling a disappearing act on you, that’s no reason to stop visiting the tower.”

Natasha caught him stiffening just a fraction from that—the shift subtle yet so clear to her. Probably because she was looking for it. And he could tell that she knew from the way that her lips quirked up ever so slightly at the end, just before she turned her head away from him and continued to head for the door.

Was that how it was now? Was he so obviously alone that even the coldest of assassins was now inviting him to return back? Perhaps it was more of a concern to him as to how obvious it was.

Obvious like the way that his eyes caught a pair of Aviator glasses adorning a face with a goatee, a nicely tailored suit completing the look. The god was certain that he could absolutely control himself, there was nothing pulling him in that direction and he could look away any time he wished—

He simply did not wish to, adjusting his place in his seat to take a better look because perhaps Tony was finally done with this anti-social madness. Perhaps he had heard that Loki was across the street and was finally shuffling back like the pathetic mortal he was, but Loki would accept him back with grace and generosity like the courteous god he was. Perhaps he had finally forgotten about the issue of the rotten boy that had made things so much more difficult for them. Perhaps—

Perhaps that was not Tony, the cheekbones too far off-set and eyes behind the glasses not the expressive shade of chocolate brown that Loki was expecting.

He cursed under his breath and stood abruptly, tossing the remains of his beverage into the trash receptacle.

Instead of heading back to the tower and taking Natasha’s invitation, he instead found himself going down a checklist of ways to let out some steam.

It helped drown out the part of his mind that was wondering why on Midgard he got his hopes up.

* * *

Peter knew he should’ve been suspicious at ‘parent-teacher conference.’

He knew that Aunt May was worried about him, true, and he thought that there was the slightest chance that she had come by to request a meeting with him and his teacher to make sure that his school work was all sorted. (Which was a little silly really, because of all the things that Peter was having trouble with, school actually was not one of them.) So instead now Peter was pondering how to make it up to her and he was honestly thinking Ben & Jerry’s because everyone likes ice cream, right?

But just as he was entering his teacher’s room, said instructor was brushing shoulders with him saying, “Don’t think that this means that you don’t have to work for the rest of the semester, Parker.” Of course, this at odds with the grand smile on the guy’s face but—

Peter whipped around as he walked backwards into the room, watching a third of the supposed meeting group walk away. “Wait, so do we get started without you?”

“Oh yeah we do. Actually, you know what? I don’t really like that guy—too sniffly. We should keep him out of the room. Lock him out. We can do that from the inside, right?”

Facing the risk of whiplash, Peter spun on his heel again to come face to face with none other than Tony Stark, in a complete suit and Aviators framing his face, standing in his Chemistry classroom.

Slumping his shoulders, Peter sighed. “I am so not taking you to Ben & Jerry’s.”

An arched eyebrow implied that Tony was not following the train of thought but he didn’t miss a beat in the conversation anyway. “Well, of course you’re not, I’ve got high-class tastes. We’re getting Häagen-Dazs.” And he cocked his head to the side. “Try spelling that, by the way. You can’t even ask for a definition because plot twist: it doesn’t mean anything!”

Running both hands through his hair, Peter decided not to even touch Tony’s tangent with a ten foot pole. “You know this is a parent-teacher conference, right? You’re not my parent!”

“Well the thing is,” Tony drawled, “You’ll find that with the proper amount of money, it’s not hard to convince people that Tony Stark does or does not actually have a kid.”

Peter paused, letting his head try to piece the implications of that together—

“Before you ask,” the billionaire held up a hand. “You don’t have any siblings.”

“Siblings? Siblings?!” Peter tried to pick up his jaw from the ground but instead found himself lightly pacing as he had a tendency to do when he was anxious, his hands starting to flail about with minds of their own, “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t! Because you’re not my dad!”

There was a beat of silence that let the words hang in the air before Tony finally cleared his throat and removed his sunglasses, revealing chocolate brown eyes that reflected Peter’s own.

He convinced himself that any similarities in expression between them – exasperation, exhaustion, desperation, frustration – were just imagined.

“Parker, that hurts,” the billionaire tucked his sunglasses away and looked over to the window. “Come on, just because you’re not in my house doesn’t mean that you’re not in my heart.”

“You did not just say that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. Strike it from the record.” Tony waved a hand as if it’d get the cheesy line any further from them. But then he met Peter’s gaze and frowned, “But I’m not kidding. Why haven’t you come back yet?”

“Is there a reason why I should?” Peter responded a little too readily. “And for the record, I’m at the tower all the time—”

“Yeah, working,” Tony narrowed his gaze. “And even then you’re not even completely doing your job. I don’t know why Pepper lets you get away with the fact that you absolutely refuse to go to my office when I call for you.”

“You never actually need me for anything.”

“Like that ever stopped you before.”

“Before is before for a reason—” The teenager bit his tongue before he tripped himself up in a riddle. “Now is different.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is now different?” Tony raised both his hands in a shrug, expressing his confusion. “What changed? You and Loki have always been at each other’s throats. No big deal!”

“No big deal—yeah it’s a big deal! He nearly suffocated me!”

“You pushed his buttons. No one is responsible for anything that happens after that except you.”

“And he pushed mine.” Peter frowned and finally admitted it to someone—and it was to the worst possible person. That was made clear when the look of utter confusion hit Tony’s face. “You didn’t even realize that much, did you?”

“What was I supposed to realize?” he asked slowly, the way that he did when he finally encountered something he actually didn’t have the answer to.

Gritting his teeth, Peter shook his head and ran a hand through his hair before wincing, remembering where exactly he had gotten that habit from. He still hadn’t schooled himself out of it. “Never mind. Never mind if you don’t get it. I don’t expect you to anymore.”

Didn’t know why he expected it in the first place.

“Parker, you’re getting all jigsaw puzzle on me.” Tony got that hard edge to his voice that he always did when befuddled and frustrated. It almost made Peter flinch again. “So what? Is it just you and Loki squabbling that’s keeping you from the Tower?”

“‘Squabbling’—”

“Yeah, calling it like I see it.”

“Then call this,” Peter gave a scoff as he turned away from the infuriating man, sights set on the door. The slam punctuated his exit.

Tony took a moment to wait in the room, his fingers drumming against the wooden desk before he sighed.

“I call it ‘Failed Parenting’, I guess.”

* * *

“Peter, get that out of my face, I don’t want to see it,” Pepper chided right after she ended her phone call, promptly ignoring the piece of paper that Peter had awkwardly held outstretched to her for the past twenty minutes.

“Miss Potts.” He frowned and did his best to keep his voice unstrained. “I’m quitting.”

Pepper looked up at him and raised her brows. “Yes, I can see that.”

“… so aren’t you going to take my letter of resignation?”

The blonde sighed dramatically and took the paper before tossing it right into the rubbish bin. “There. Now it’s been taken.” Then she took the pen she was holding and pointed to a stack of papers. “I need that to arrive on the seventeenth floor, bring it to Larry.”

Frowning, Peter shuffled awkwardly. He always felt terrible saying no to Pepper, even though he’d gotten slightly better at it since his refusal to go to Tony’s office. “But Miss Potts, I just—”

“Quit working for Stark Industries, I know,” she hummed and nudged the stack of papers closer with her pen, looking up at him with her slate blue eyes. “However you have officially been hired for the position of my personal assistant.”

Peter opened his mouth to respond… and then closed it. A moment later he tried again and couldn’t come up with anything more intelligent than “What?”

“Whatever’s happening with Tony, I will allow you two to work it out on your own even though it’s probably not the fastest route, but this is a situation I don’t really have any place in.” She hummed as she didn’t break eye contact, merely tilting her head to the side. “However I will not let his antics steal away my… oh, what did you call it? Name alliteration buddy?”

The warm and touched feeling in Peter’s chest worked its way up to form a smile on his face, despite everything that had happened. “You remembered.”

“You got me a personalized mug,” she gently reminded him.

“Pretty perfect piece of porcelain,” Peter laughed as he took the stack of papers in hand. “So we’ll do the paperwork…”

“Later,” she murmured as her gaze drifted back to the computer screen. “Though I doubt we’ll have any complications… after all, Pepper Potts picked Peter Parker personally.”

For the first time in what felt like weeks, a natural laugh filled the room and Peter was surprised to find it coming from his own mouth. But in the end he just grinned and shook his head as he exited her office, stack of papers tucked under his arm. “You rock, Miss Potts.”

However as fate would have it, it would seem that he would trade one blonde for another, his eyes widening in surprise as on his way to get up to the seventeenth floor, the elevator doors opened to reveal none other than Steve Rogers.

The super soldier’s arm catching the door outdid the speed of Peter reaching for the Door Close button, a concerned look clouding his features. “Peter…” His voice was soft as his eyes drifted toward Peter literally trying to shut him out.

Retracting his hand sheepishly, Peter gave Steve a sad look and got straight away to explaining his behavior.

“You have the best chance of them all to bring me back, Uncle Steve,” he sighed. “And that’s without your puppy dog eyes.”

“I don’t—” Steve began before he noticed the resigned look on Peter’s face, but to the teenager’s dismay, he stepped inside of the elevator as opposed to going back out. His blue eyes darted to the stack of papers before back to the Peter’s face as the doors finally shut. “Hey…”

And Peter foolishly lifted his head, knowing that even Natasha had a hard time going against what Steve wanted when he really wanted something.

“You’re running an errand for Pepper, right?”

That definitely wasn’t where Peter was expecting this to go, but neither was what Steve said next.

“How about we go out and get some lunch after? Thor won’t let me live down the fact that he got to try Marie Calendar’s pies before I did.”

And there was some pretty clear restraint in Steve’s face, some part of him that wanted to ask Peter to come back like Thor and Tony did, but he didn’t ask. However he genuinely seemed to want to go get some food with him.

… and didn’t Peter say that no one could deny Steve when he really wanted something?

“Yeah,” Peter laughed again, surprised at how easily the gesture came, and let his shoulder relax. “I’d like that, Uncle Steve.”

* * *

“So let me get this straight,” Peter laughed as he walked out of the restaurant, face brimming with a grin and his stomach full with pie. “You were doing all the work that Miss Potts normally leaves for me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck and frowning, Steve sighed, “Listen, I never really noticed before since we were always on the same side but… Miss Potts is really intimidating when she wants to get something done.”

“Well I could’ve told you that,” the teenager teased as he looked over to the captain. “But look at it this way! You can finally join the club!”

“Club? What club?”

“The club that Dad—” And Peter bit his tongue right after he said it, but he continued on and pretended that he didn’t see the smile tugging at the edge of Steve’s lips. “That Mr. Stark and I… founded.”

Then he pursed his lips, realizing that he suddenly was not as eager to tell this story.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pushed anyway, eyes dancing with amusement. “What is it?”

“Uhh… the ‘Angry Miss Potts is Our Worst Nightmare’ Club—but we’re working on shortening it. Maybe we’ll come up with something as catchy as SHIELD.”

“And is it only you and Tony who’re in the club?”

Dammit. There went his attempt to distract the conversation.

But still, Peter scoffed. “Yeah. It’s really annoying. I think I caught Bruce and Pepper watching runway shows together once.” Then he shivered. “It got weirder when Loki came in with a bowl of popcorn and sat down with them.”

Steve openly laughed at that and Peter’s attempts to clamp down and hold onto his frown were for naught, seeing as he was pretty sure that Steve’s laughter was pure and positive enough that it could end world hunger if they harnessed its energy.

But perhaps all too naturally, it was cut short by the sudden boom of an explosion—too close, way too close—and it led both of them to stiffen.

It was the familiar zing that rang through Peter’s head that made him react fast enough to yell, “Duck!”

Steve followed the order like a soldier and Peter leaped high enough that he was able to dodge the hurling, flaming ball of what-was-that-even, web slinging it from under his sleeve as he yanked it back, away from busy traffic and back down toward the alleyway where it came from.

He just barely released a breath before he relaxed the hand that clung to the building side and he allowed the momentum to have him follow after.

By the time that Steve looked up, Peter was already gone. He grit his teeth before turning his attention back to the street where traffic was stopped, but thankfully no one was hurt—just frazzled.

Predictably, he took it upon himself to clean up the remaining mess and get life flowing for everyone again, encouraging them to go about their day and try not to pay too much mind to what just happened—after all, nothing happened, right? How lucky.

“Wasn’t there a kid with you?” one kind old man bothered to ask him, to which Steve managed a grin.

“What’re you talking about? I was just on my way home. Which is what you should be doing, pal.”

He wasn’t a big fan of lying, but sometimes it had to be done.

After all, if Steve had his way, he’d be home soon enough.

With Peter in tow.

* * *

Wow, this was awkward.

There was so much green zipping around the premises – green flames, green lightning, green aura, green capes, green arm bangles? – that Peter actually had to wonder if that was this season’s colors.

He also wondered if there was some sort of superhero protocol on what to do if you caught two super villains fighting each other. Do you intervene or wait for them to settle it themselves or would that possibly risk them getting along and forming an alliance that’s twice as much of a pain in the ass?

Clearly this was best pondered a few rooftops over, where Loki and Amora’s fight atop an old abandoned building wouldn’t be able to get to him.

But wow, what a fight it was.

One minute Loki was Loki and Amora was Amora but then the next minute Loki could be a panther and Amora could be a jaguar and then Loki would be a rhino while Amora would turn into something right out of  _28 Days Later_  and then Loki countered with  _Alien vs. Predator_  but then when they both turned back human they were only a little bit more beat up and not quite so scaly.

If he didn’t think it was so cool, Peter was pretty sure he would’ve lost his lunch—or at least taken out his phone to put it on YouTube.

… actually, that was an idea.

For a moment he shifted, unsure if it was the best idea… but hey, he’d heard things about the Daily Bugle demanding more pictures of the supernatural and super powered occurrences of the fair city. And he was seventeen! Who could possibly blame him for needing a little bit more spending money? College tuition and all that.

So he crept quietly – kind of like a spider, get it? – and set up a few cameras around the perimeter, just barely in sight and hoping that all Asgardians were as bad with technology as Thor.

The fight continued and he kept a look-out for any more heaps of debris possibly flying out into the city streets and surprisingly found none. However just as he was setting up the fifth camera, he watched Loki’s spear get knocked right out of his hands and Amora landed a ghastly, glowing hit upon him with a wicked smile on her face.

Peter winced and didn’t know why.

Though perhaps it was the way that Loki’s eyes widened with surprise, his mouth turning into a scowl after he was hit. It was weird, really, since Peter had seen Loki get beaten up a bunch of times—though admittedly mostly by the Hulk—but he’d never really felt bad for him before. Why was he suddenly feeling bad for him now of all times?

Except Peter didn’t have much chance to question it as he noticed Amora’s hands light up again, Loki taking a step backward to place some distance between them with a hand pressed to his abdomen. Uh-oh.

He had to think fast.

Or rather, he didn’t really have much time to think at all, his hands immediately shooting out to wrap web around Amora’s wrists, surprising the Enchantress as he jumped over and immediately swung down- the momentum pulling her straight onto the rooftop with a cry.

“What, didn’t you hear?” he found his mouth running without his permission again. “Concrete facials are all the rage these days.”

“You—” Loki hissed and when Peter looked over, the god was no longer cornered animal but all height and irritation.

“You missed the first part. You’re supposed to begin with ‘thank’,” Peter explained as he straightened and wondered where all that weakness he saw two seconds ago went.

“What is there to thank you for?” The Trickster raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms in front of him. “I had all but been ready to finish her before you had stepped in, Spider-child. How lowly of a creature do you take me for to think that I could honestly be backed into a corner by the likes of her?”

“Wait.” Peter raised a hand as he swiveled to Loki. “So you’re telling me that I just swooped in and put my hind in harm’s way for nothing?!”

Despite himself, Loki’s lips quirked into a slight smirk. “Well it was hardly any fault of mine that you fell for a lie, even if it was one of my more obvious ones.”

“I can’t believe this!” Peter threw his hands in the air and groaned.

“And neither can I,” Amora finally entered the conversation again with a growl, a green haze engulfing her as she stood. Her perfect lips were pulled into an ugly scowl as her sharp green eyes bore daggers into Peter’s heart. It took all of a second for Peter’s webs to disintegrate from her wrists and he gulped quietly.

“Oh. Right. Asgardian.”

“Asgardian indeed, young one. Now let’s send you off to an early grave,” she hissed as her hands took on a brighter hue.

Suddenly Peter found himself dancing around the rooftop, dodging the blasts and using the overhanging lamps to give him things to work off of but quickly found items being destroyed—and he barely had time to catch all the debris before they started to fall down into citizens below.

“For the record, you still look great! You could just be taken down a few notches and all,” he tried to explain and shot more webs at her before they were slowed mid-air and fell uselessly to the ground.

Somewhere in all of this, he’d managed to lose track of where Loki went and decided that he hated that guy even more.

“And you could be stand to be interred in the earth!” was Amora’s scathing retort as she continued to fire magic at him and he was afraid to find out what would happen if one of her spells managed to hit him.

It was just as he had that thought that she seemed to realization his preoccupation, sending a blast to one towering post that was protruding out of the rooftop, causing a sharp electrical crack before it began to fall. Was there even a choice involved here?

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Peter complained as he stopped in his tracks, shooting his wire to wrap around the tower and yanked, pulling hard for it to fall on the rooftop as opposed to go spiraling down into the streets—

Leaving him immobile and wide open.

A particularly vicious looking blast of energy was sent hurling his way and he froze, one part of him wanting to apologize to Aunt May for all the grief he caused her, another part hating the fact that this was how he was going to go out, and a little corner in the back of his mind thinking that apple pie with Captain America actually wasn’t that bad of a final meal.

“Foolish child, move!”

The snarl snapped him out of his reverie but not quite as much the hiss of pain as there was suddenly a body obstructing the shot. A look up gave him an all too clear view of Loki’s face twisted in pain – actual pain – and Amora’s laugh from behind him rung in Peter’s ears.

“Oh my!” she cackled. “Has the Liesmith gone soft on us?”

“You know not what you have wrought upon yourself, Enchantress!” Loki’s silver tongue lashed at her even as he was nearly hunched over in pain, but Peter took the chance to give one final jerk of his wrists to pull the pole the rest of the way down, angling it to fall toward Amora.

The Enchantress was left coughing before she waved her hands, banishing the dust from the rooftop and expelling it into the air, but she gave a harsh foreign curse when she found that both of her opponents had left the scene.

* * *

“Did you call her fat?”

“No.”

“Did you stand her up?”

“No.”

“Did you pretend you were listening but you really weren’t and then she caught you?”

“No.”

“Did you cut her hair?”

“Mm, no, you have the wrong Asgardian for that one. That prank is a few centuries old.”

“Is it your hobby to cut the hair of blondes?”

“Your good captain’s head is still perfectly cut, isn’t i—”

Peter glanced over to the weakened god, whose arm was now draped across his shoulders and whose face was wrinkled in distaste. It was enough to give him pause, leaving them stopped in the apartment complex hallway that they were now wandering for reasons Peter couldn’t identify. “Um…?”

It took a moment of awkward pause between them as Loki had the most determined yet disdainful look on his face, glaring out into the space in front of them and Peter was almost wary they were facing an invisible enemy—

Then Loki sneezed.

“Oh my god.”

“You rang?” the Trickster rolled his eyes before pulling a handkerchief out of thin air – or maybe it was up his sleeve – and gently dabbling at his nose. “Keep going to the end of the hallway, Parker.”

“But it’s—”

“Just do it.”

Though he was incredibly hesitant to follow directions from the Liesmith, Peter proceeded onward with the taller man in tow, heading farther down the hallway with enough ease. He supposed that he had his enhanced strength to thank for that.

At first he slowed when he found himself quickly approaching a wall, but it was another wave of Loki’s hand and the image of a dead end with a window view of the city blurred until it gave way to another door.

“… so can I ask how—”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Killing the dream.”

“I shall soon be killing an insect if he does not open the door.”

“Ooh, the bug jokes.” Peter feigned hurt but did reach out to open the door, finding it unlocked. But he guessed that made sense considering the previous security measure. So he mentally prepared himself for dark candles and gothic scenery and black furniture and maybe an apothecary table with a few medieval torture instruments in the back—

Instead he found only something that looked like it came out a fashion shoot set, the kind of place that looked fantastic but wasn’t particularly lived in. There was even a grand piano in the corner.

“Did you know Chopin by any chance?”

Loki slowly raised a brow.

“I’m trying to get a feel for how old you are without directly asking. I heard it’s rude,” Peter explained but continued to just help guide the god in. “But what’d the spell do? Age you faster? Are you my grandmother now?”

Naturally, it was said with a slight edge to his voice—but Peter had to at least make the attempt to play nicely with the god of mischief that could summon a knife with a flick of his wrist and stab him.

“Is that your way of expressing gratitude? To rub salt in the wound?” Green eyes momentarily glowed with anger before subsiding as Loki’s expression settled on a frown. “I’ll have you know that you would’ve been disintegrated if that spell managed to hit you in full force, you ignorant brat.”

“… But you’re still here,” the teenager continued to try to avoid actually saying ‘thank you’. It’d at least make them even.

“Yes, as it comes from a naturally higher magical defense as well as my own efforts, which make me far more capable of handling such an assault,” Loki explained almost clinically as he attempted to remove himself from Peter’s person. The boy did not release him and wondered just how much of a toll the spell took on Loki if he wasn’t able to fight back. Eventually the Liesmith only frowned temporarily before inclining his head to the hallway, Peter taking the hint and heading in that direction.

Of course his own curiosity got the better of him. “So… what? Did they only take one kidney?”

“Nothing quite so creative,” the spell caster drawled in a bored fashion as they entered a room that Peter could only assume was the master bedroom. Loki finally managed to get out of Peter’s grasp, heading toward the bed and turning his head to cough and sniffle. “It merely appears that I have caught some kind of illness.”

“… you’ve got to be kidding.”

“Oh, how I wish I was.”

“You have a cold,” the other translated to laymen’s terms. He ran both of his hands through his hair, a gesture saved for special occasions when he was really at a loss. “A god has a cold.”

“A ‘cold’?” Loki repeated, both of his brows knitting together. The word sounded foreign on his tongue and some part in Peter’s head explained to him ‘frost giant’. “The colloquialisms found on Midgard as so misleading. It is completely contrasting with my symptoms.”

“Aaaand you have a fever. A god has a fever.” Peter nodded to himself a few times as if it would help him accept this as reality. “Okay, uh. So… So what?”

The god slowly arched an eyebrow, unsure what the boy was asking him.

“So… So do I get you an apple or something?” And it was hard for him to dig that far deep into his knowledge of mythology. He hardly knew any since that was far from his favorite subject in school and what he did know, he threw out after Thor decided that he was quite fond of custom waffle makers and ate his breakfast in the shape of Mickey Mouse. No mythology could prepare him for that.

If anything, the Liesmith was actually growing rather amused by Peter’s confusion, if the way that his lips were drawing into a smirk had any implication.

“No, stop giving me that look, I actually don’t know and it’s even worse since you and Thor showed up here,” Peter almost whined. “Is it an apple? Do I have the right myth? Or am I supposed to get you some seeds—no wait, the seeds keep you in the Underworld for Winter, that’s not it. Or maybe it is? Are Norse and Greek mythology – mythologies? – actually separate or do you all just hang out together in some sort of garden party? Like, do you actually have Thor and Hercules having arm wrestling contests with Zeus and Odin sharing beard grooming tips and everyone’s just trying to ignore Fandral and Aphrodite making out in the corner?”

Then things got weird.

A foreign noise infiltrated the room and Peter froze when he first heard it, completely unsure what it was. It took a long moment to realize that it was laughter and even longer moment for it to process that it was Loki’s laughter.

The god’s head was thrown back as he took the opportunity to recline upon the bed, genuinely laughing and Peter could only hear some faint traces of maniacal laughter in the sound—far more reined in than anything he ever would’ve expected from the god. No, it was about as innocent as something from the God of Mischief could get… that is, slightly mocking as opposed to outright psycho.

Peter honestly wasn’t sure what to do. It was almost kinda… nice. Human. –ish.

But it would seem that the moment would be short-lived as Loki was suddenly seized by a fit of coughs, turning onto his side and trying to smother the noise with his forearm.

Finding that much easier to deal with, Peter stepped forward with a frown. “Hey, hold on—”

A pale hand – which was even paler than usual, he noted – was suddenly thrust into his face before the fit coughing subsided and green eyes again darted forth to meet his own. “Leave me be. True, my teleportation may have been off but I require your assistance no further. I suggest you leave this place and tell no one of it.”

“But who would I—” Peter began before something clicked. He raised his eyebrows in response as he continued to look at the trickster who now averted his gaze. “No… Mr. Stark doesn’t know you have a separate apartment?”

“He had no need to.” Naturally, Loki’s attempt to keep his voice hard and distant was ruined by a rather pitiful sniff thanks to his now running nose. “It is not as though where I go particularly interests him—you know as well as I that something needs to be right in his line of sight for his attention to be caught.”

The unspoken statement floated in the air, neither of them fully acknowledging its existence: ‘And sometimes he misses even that.’

Mussing his hair again, Peter shook his head, “No way… You can’t just expect me to leave you here without anyone to deal with something you don’t know how to—”

A flash in Loki’s eyes made the boy stop and the silver tongue didn’t miss a beat in filling the silence. “And why not? You are just so good at walking out the door and making things harder on the people you leave behind, aren’t you?”

And it was unfair, Peter thought, how true that was. He thought of arguments—not just between him and Loki—but between him and Uncle Ben and that one night where he should’ve just apologized and stayed home or hey maybe even done the right thing and all it took was him walking out the door to ruin the life of one of the people he cared for most and take the life of the other.

There was another reflection in Loki’s eyes, but it was something else, something softer and almost curious but Peter didn’t dare touch it.

Loki couldn’t have known, he thought.

“You’re doing that thing,” he breathed later after taking a few glances at the door. He paused to a take another, heavier breath before snapping his wrist, sending a spiral of web to the box of tissues on the other side of the room, yanking it to fling right into his waiting hands.

“Thing?”

“Yeah… that thing,” Peter sighed as he looked down at the tissue box. Unopened. Figures. He tore the plastic and then tossed it to land lightly next to the god. “Da- … Mr. Stark mentioned it. Once. When he got you that pocket watch.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to recognize the occasion that Peter was talking about.

“You know, when he gave it to you and then came down to the lab because you said something like ‘Is this a clever metaphor for you bestowing some of your precious, limited time to someone who already has too much of it?’ and he got irked but didn’t say anything and walked out—”

“You are aware of quite a number of the details, Parker.”

“He rants and gossips when he’s angry. Come on, you know that. But yeah, never ask him to do his impression of you. It’s not flattering.” He cleared his throat before moving on. “But well, I naturally fulfilled my part as a good step-son and called you—” He paused, noticing the way that Loki glared at him. “—okay, we’ll be the smart kind of honest and say it was unflattering.”

The god snorted, but at least seemed that much less likely to kill Peter with a look.

“But he gave me a lecture that he thinks he’s qualified for but he’s really not but anyway the moral of the story was, uh…” It figured. He just had to lose confidence when he got to the important part. “Just… You kinda lash out when people try to be nice to you, huh?”

“That’s—”

“It’s true.” And Peter tried not to feel too liberated that he finally got to be the one to interrupt Loki instead of the other way around. “You’re actually twice as much of a dick when you’re offered kindness.”

Then by some miracle, Peter Parker was saved from an untimely end at the hand of a sniffling god by the bell.

Well, less of a bell and more of a knock.

Which was… weird.

It stunned both of the people in the room to the point of silence, but before they knew it, the knocking had turned instead into a long creeeaaaak that foretold a door opening.

Loki was just peeling himself off the bed before Peter waved, insisting he return to the bed. “I’ll take care of it,” he murmured quietly before swiftly moving out of the room, leaving no room for argument. Only a feverish Norse god.

Narrowing his eyes as he put on his hood and drawing up the collar of his shirt, the not-properly-suited Spider-Man crept through the hallway, listening to the shuffling sounds coming from the living room. Someone had clearly managed to get in and it wasn’t like they’d ordered pizza or anything.

The footsteps drew closer still and he found himself quieting his breathing as he remained prepared for any wicked green blasts or maybe an axe or two, depending on if Amora had picked up her boy toy before dropping by.

There was no hesitation as a silhouette started to block some of the light coming in and Peter didn’t think—he just shot before he could be shot at.

And that was how he successfully managed to pin Steve Rogers to the living room wall of a notorious super villain.

Even with his super strength, Steve was only just barely managing to move the webbing that successfully pinned both his wrists. “Peter…?! Hot dog, what happened? Did Stark adjust your webs before you left or something?”

“Oh, uh… no,” Peter stammered, instinct to help Steve overcoming the need to question why he was there at all. With both of their strength combined, they were able to get one wrist free before working on the other. “Just… You know, I double-tapped.”

There was the usual look of confusion on Steve’s face.

“So we’re adding Zombieland to the list of movies you need to see,” he quipped just before they got the other hand free.

“Yeah… we can do that when we get home,” Steve sighed as he rubbed at his wrists, blue eyes darting around and missing the wince from Peter. “Whose apartment is this anyway…?”

“Whose apartment is—No, better question, how did you find this apartment? Why did you find this apartment?” It was admittedly really weird. After all, Steve and Loki seemed to have a mutual toleration thing going on at best, discounting a prank here and there. If Tony didn’t know where Loki lived on the side, how on earth could Steve?

“Oh, uh.” There was no denying the tell-tale hint of red starting to encroach on Steve’s cheeks as he started to reach into his pocket. “Well, it’s just…”

The rest of it didn’t need any further explanation. Steve’s phone screen was still open to a GPS system, complete with the Spider-Man emblem blinking right above the building they were in. There was even an arrow that pointed directly at Peter along with the estimated distance from him, in case further direction was still needed.

Like he was a Wendy’s tucked away on the side of the road.

“Alright, where’s my tracker?” was the first thing that flew out of Peter’s mouth as he started to shake his jacket around, as if it would just fall right out. “Seriously, does Mr. Stark have absolutely no idea what it means to have personal space or a sense of privacy—”

“No, Peter! No, it’s not used all the time,” Steve frowned. “Just… ever since that last time when we woke up and you were nowhere to be found and there wasn’t even a single clue on where to start…”

“Don’t defend him on this!” the teenager argued just before running his tongue over his teeth. “He didn’t operate on me while I was sleeping, did he? I know I’ve got some foggy memories and woke up with some joint aches sometimes but—”

“No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then tell me!”

“Peter, I can’t,” Steve frowned. “I don’t even know where it is… and to be honest, it’s good. All of us have similar trackers—well, except for Natasha, but Fury signed off on that.”

“Really? And are they all this detailed? Telling you when I’m ten centimeters away or five miles out? Is there an estimated time of arrival too?!”

“No, it’s just… He worries, Peter.”

“Oh like hell, the lab’s completely shut down by the time I’m back. He just likes coming up with these things to annoy me.”

“And… why do you think the lab is completely shut down? Wouldn’t it be easy to tell when you were on your course back home with this…? The rest of us come and go but you and Tony are the only ones who constantly inhabit that Tower… Peter, it’s been hard on all of us since you left and to be honest, Tony took his late night lab breaks and turned them into full days—”

“I hate to interrupt…” came a voice from the hallway, and the two superheroes turned to find the Liesmith – out of battle armor now – leaning against the wall. Only Peter noticed that it was far heavier and less nonchalant than Loki normally would appear. “But could you perhaps take your squabbling out of my home?”

“Your home?!” Steve blurted out just as Peter scoffed out a, “I told you to stay in bed!”

Loki arched an eyebrow slowly before humming. “Yes, I see now why Tony was so insistent to have you declared ‘godfather’ to the boy, Rogers. You do have a certain likeness—but I’m no longer interested in playing that game. I suggest the both of you leave before I dispatch you myself.”

“Please, you’re having trouble standing up,].” Peter sighed before explaining to Steve without hesitation, “He’s got a cold and is running a fever. A wonky spell thing happened to weaken his immune system. Don’t ask. He has no idea what’s going on with his body and Tony doesn’t know about this place.”

Sure, there might still be a lot of anger residing in Peter’s gut, waiting at any moment for him to lash out at whoever he thought to deserve it… but he at least knew how to prioritize. He also knew that Uncle Steve was the one who could be entrusted to have the world rest on his shoulders and not even bat an eyelash.

It was like he had a knack for answering all the questions that Steve was about to ask because the super soldier only nodded faintly before looking back to Loki with an enlightened look. “I wouldn’t really advise fending off a foreign enemy all by yourself without knowledge of the proper equipment.”

“Is that not what your World Wide Web is for?” Loki quipped before tilting his head to the side.

“You’re not in any state to run to the store, much less cast a spell to change your appearance and do so safely,” Steve retorted.

Oh. Peter couldn’t help but start to grin. He knew where this was going.

“That is awfully arrogant of you to assume such, Captain,” the god began to tilt his chin up in challenge, belatedly pushing himself off of the wall—

—only to have Steve cross the room in two quick strides, hefting the god right off his feet and over the super soldier’s shoulder in a smooth maneuver. “I wouldn’t be able to get away with this if you really were okay,” he explained just as he started to head down the hall.

“The last door on the left!” Peter called and failed to smother his laughter, heading over to the kitchen.

Sadly, he was very quick to find the kitchen lacked.

And it would be enough to say that the kitchen lacked because there was no food to be found. At all.

“Uncle Steeeeeve!” And he tried to ignore how familiar that was on his tongue.

“Yeah?!” His voice carried from the hall.

“We don’t have any food!”

“How bad is it?”

“Remember that time Clint dared Thor to not eat until his stomach couldn’t take it anymore?” A pause. “That bad!”

Steve speed-walked his way into the kitchen and looked at the completely barren cabinets. “Oh. …. Yeah, that’s bad.” Then he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “Think you can run to the market?”

The teenager shifted his weight warily. “Are you sure…? I mean, I know Loki’s weaker now but—”

“But I convinced him that he might actually die if he doesn’t properly take care of himself,” Steve spoke with a grave tone that made Peter realize that he wasn’t joking. “Asgardians have illnesses, but nothing like this. So part of the road to recovery is making sure he gets a meal and medicine.”

Peter took the wallet as it was offered to him and looked up at Steve, nodding. “Gotcha… So what should I—”

“Nothing really beats chicken soup for something like this,” Captain America was ready with a list, naming them off easily. “Campbell’s really hits the spot. Then grab some cold medicine—liquid kind, not one of those fancy pants pills you use now. For good measure, get some tangerines and Tylenol.”

Tilting his head to the side, Peter couldn’t help but question it. “Tylenol? Isn’t that for headaches?”

“Between you and me, I feel one coming on right now.” Steve managed a slight grin and the snarky comment made Peter laugh. It was nice to get the reminder now and then that even the righteous Captain America was as human as the rest of them sometimes.

“Okay…” Peter nodded as he finished jotting down the shopping list on his StarkFone. And his curiosity again got to the better of him. “Um… By the way, Uncle Steve, why are you… so willing to help? I thought Loki put whipped cream into your house slippers and you didn’t notice until you slipped them on?”

Frowning slightly at the memory, Steve shook his head. “Well… I mean, have you even thought about it? He and Stark are on rocky terms right now—”

“Yeah, I realized when he said that D—Mr. Stark didn’t even know this place existed.”

“—but the repercussions of Loki dying are something that I don’t even want to think of,” Steve finished with a sigh. “They’re absolutely terrible together but I feel like at this point… I’d dread what’d happen if they ever weren’t, you know?”

Peter winced. “Yeah… Yeah, I do know.”

The response seemed to please the super soldier enough as he clamped a hand down on Peter’s shoulder and gave a more honest, sheepish smile.

“And besides… I can’t say that I don’t know what it’s like to be in his shoes.”

* * *

The rest of the evening managed to pass pleasantly enough—and by ‘pleasantly enough’, Peter really just meant to say that nothing exploded. There was still a bit of an awkward aura in the air but if he had learned anything about his Uncle Steve, it was that the man was actually the master of the poker face when it came to keeping the peace.

A true diplomat, that guy.

Yet eventually he had to take a call (and they both had to face the fact that Steve not answering a call would be rude which would be weird from Steve) and it was up to Peter to deliver Loki’s medicine.

“Here.” He found himself sitting on the bed next to Loki, spoon full of medicine in hand.

The god narrowed his eyes at the foreign substance.

“… seriously,” Peter explained, “If we wanted you to die, it would’ve been a lot less incriminating to not give you poison and just let your fever get there first. Which it will if you don’t take this medicine.”

Corner of his mouth quirking downward in distaste, Loki did not even try to pretend to enjoy it. He gestured for Peter to hand him the spoon but it seemed the teenager was on the power trip and instead just brought it closer to Loki’s lips.

“You are growing too fond of this, child,” sighed the god before he leaned forward and took the medicine, but not without glaring wholeheartedly at Peter.

When it seemed that the boy was just about ready to smile at his victory, the Trickster decided to rain on his parade.

“And while you are at it, servant boy, why not fetch me some reading material? None of your mortal drivel. Swing over to the tower and find the spell book I keep on the bedside table. You are capable of that, aren’t you?” He turned his nose up, slipping into the haughty shoes of a prince all too easily.

“Hey hey hey,” Steve warned as he walked into the room, hand lingering on the door frame, “Come on, I thought we were all getting along here. No need for bossiness…”

“I have already taken far too much heed of what you deem me to need, Captain,” Loki scoffed and then sniffed, which took the edge off most of his words.

“Well… I think all that’s left is bed rest now, right?” Peter sighed and thanked his lucky stars. He wouldn’t need to be in the room to help Loki rest.

“Until morning, yeah.” The super soldier nodded, fairly familiar with this. “We can check your temperature in a few hours though—”

“Unnecessary,” Loki huffed before settling his gaze over the both of them levelly now. There was a pause of contemplation and awkward silence on their ends before the god spoke again. “You need not trouble yourself with this any further. I shall put my hands in the fate of your Midgardian remedy and should a complication arise, I procured means of contacting you both some time ago. You may take your leave now.”

Steve and Peter glanced at each other, silent acknowledgment that they would discuss it further between the two of them before nodding and beginning to head for the door.

“Wait.” They did just that as Loki spoke up again. As they turned back to face him, they found his hands settled on his lap and his gaze intently upon his own fingers. There was tenseness in his jaw that wasn’t there before and he spoke again, “… You needn’t tell Tony of this or of this place. He won’t ask so do not assume he needs to know.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Steve shook his head slightly before guiding the boy outside, glancing at Loki momentarily before shutting the door behind him.

“So do you think Mr. Stark would pick up his cell phone or the phone in the lab quicker?” he asked as soon as they were out of earshot from the door.

“… Didn’t you just hear him?”

“I heard him being stubborn as a mule.” Peter rolled his eyes, already slipping his phone out of his pocket. “Seriously. They can’t do this anymore.”

“They’ve been doing it for a while, Peter,” the super soldier sighed, settling himself upon Loki’s couch and putting his elbows on his knees. His fingers came up to his lip as they often would when he was deep in thought.

“How long?”

“Two weeks.”

Since you left.

“… yeah they can’t do this anymore.” Peter sighed. “Mr. Stark doesn’t know about this place and Loki is plagued with illness. Do you know what could happen?”

“But… he specifically said—”

“He specifically said to keep Dad in the dark!” Peter snapped before realizing that was the first time the name managed to escape his mouth in its entirety. But eventually he ran a hand through his hair and sighed in an aggravated manner. “I don’t… I’m tired… of it. Of all of it. You’re the one who said they’re better together, right? Even though I have no idea how to deal with the layers and layers that Loki has.”

The super soldier chuckled as the teenager heavily dropped onto the couch next to him. “Yeah… He’s a complicated guy, isn’t he? First he tells us to get out and then he’s going out of his way to not make Tony worry.”

A harsh scoff escaped the boy’s mouth. “You think that’s what it was?” … Though he had to admit that it made sense. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face with a groan. “Why does Dad even put up with all those masks?”

Steve sighed faintly but couldn’t help but grin a little. Of everyone on the team, Tony was most known for being able to accept every single part of a person—ever since he brought up the Hulk straight to Bruce Banner’s face. That was how he was saved from a crash landing by the one that they all labeled as ‘monster’. It was because Tony instead decided to just call him ‘teammate’, just like he trusted the rest of them… maybe more.

“Maybe it’s just—” He chuckled faintly, drawing Peter’s attention to him. “Maybe he likes what he sees underneath.”

* * *

Eventually all Peter could see Loki as was a miserable pile of phlegm and sniffles that was tucked beneath the covers.

His brown eyes rolled to the ceiling momentarily before he stepped forward into a room with a new wet towel. He stepped forward and was surprised that the god didn’t so much as shift as Peter’s finger grazed across his forehead to replace the original. The air was silent—Steve had left half an hour ago to report back to the tower without rousing any suspicion.

Now it was only them… again.

“… You are a foolish child,” Loki finally croaked as Peter stepped back, his eyes still shut as his throat was strained. “I recall insisting that you leave.”

There was a pause in which the god sniffed slightly. Eventually Peter rubbed the back of his neck and just grumbled, “I… Well, yeah. But your fever’s still really high…. I’d normally call Uncle Bruce over since he’s the doctor in the family but… you know. Secret lair should be secret, I guess. Even if we’ve already got an Avenger that knows about it.”

“… Family,” Loki snorted. “Are you still going on about that?”

“Not really,” Peter admitted as he sat on the bed. There was no protest from Loki and that was what made the teenager realize the god’s brain must be really frazzled. “I mean…. it’s been weeks since I’ve seen them—”

“And your elongated stay from your aunt must mean that she is no longer—”

“She’s related to me by blood.” He was quick to jump back, almost biting in his retort. “…. She’s all the family I have left.”

The room became bleaker as the quiet settled in, only the sound of Loki’s labored breathing in the air. Shaking his head and wondering why on earth he was bothering to have this conversation when Loki wouldn’t even remember it, Peter stood and started to head for the door.

He froze only when Loki spoke again. “It would pain him to hear you say that.”

Peter bit his lip and tried to muster up an answer.

When there was none, it seemed the silver tongue had recovered the fastest of all. “He is also a foolish mortal. Clinging to those who do not belong to him. As if you do not have a say in whether or not it’s actually true…” He coughed. “Yet he has drawn you in just as he has the others—with open gestures and lavish gifts and words that are as dangerous as the weapons he claims to have discarded.

“You accepted, Peter Parker.” Loki paused and cleared his throat, rolling over slightly and obscuring Peter’s view of his face. “And now you are lost without him, for was he not your home?”

It was hard to swallow. “It’s your fault I hate that word.”

Yet the Liesmith’s lips parted into a smile, even though the boy could not see. “So you are the type to choose to shoot the messenger.”

“You’re feverish.”

“Indeed,” Loki sighed almost wistfully as he pressed his face into the pillow, the towel on his forehead sliding ever so slightly. “However… that does not mean that I am wrong.”

* * *

The boy had told.

In Loki’s overheated, heavily burdened mind, there was very little that made sense to him at the time being. There were snippets of conversation that he held onto, hoping to use it for later for reasons he wasn’t sure of… only hoping that they would come to him later.

However what he did register was the sudden appearance of arms wrapping around his middle. His fingers twitched as he nearly reached for the knives he kept in the bedside table, but the scratch of a beard against his neck alerted him of exactly who it was. Yet he seemed to look for further confirmation anyway, blinking his eyes open and turning his head ever so slightly to find the familiar face of Tony Stark.

The boy had told.

… had he said that already?

“Yeah, you did,” the other man grumbled as he pressed his lips against Loki’s far too hot skin.

And apparently he had said it aloud.

Some part of him sought to move away, to reject the need for company that was overwhelmingly strong as of late. He was angry at Tony, he swore he was. He just didn’t know why. Maybe Tony would.

Yet the other part – the part that enjoyed the way that the inventor’s fingers had already moved beneath his normal T-shirt and splayed across his stomach and how Tony had his face buried into the crook of Loki’s neck – won out.

It took a moment but he turned over and found the most comfortable spot to be if he were to tuck his head beneath Tony’s chin. Less direct contact with stubble and more closeness.

That was good, right? Even if he was angry, it was good.

“Yeah, it is good, babe,” the other man mumbled and Loki’s brow furrowed. How much had he said aloud?

But there was suddenly a rough, calloused hand running through his hair and the god sniffed again, burrowing closer against the man and it was okay because he was feeling cold so this was warm and better.

“Your boy is a liar,” he finally made the effort to say consciously. Thankfully it required little effort to actually find words—that was always his talent.

There was a chuckle that Loki felt more than he heard, moving closer to the vibration in Tony’s throat. “I believe that makes him more your kid, doesn’t it?”

“I would have raised him better.”

He heard Tony’s breath hitch then—the way it did that normally meant that Tony was biting his tongue, keeping himself from responding with something cheeky. It was normally something that happened with Pepper…. what happened when one of Tony’s insecurities was hit right on the mark.

Even feverish, Loki was vaguely aware and only pressed closer.

Silver tongues are well-equipped for lashings. Without even making the attempt.

“Yeah…” Tony eventually breathed and buried his face into Loki’s hair. “Probably would’ve. If you got to him earlier, maybe…. if you liked him.”

There was a beat of silence before Loki mumbled something.

“What was that?”

He lifted his head so he wasn’t muffled by Tony’s shirt that smelled of metal and oil and him. “I do not…. dislike him.”

“…. I heard.”

And Loki hoped that he only imagined the whining noise he made. How on earth did mortals deal with these damned illnesses that affected their higher learning facilities as well as their bodies? It was torture.

There was a smile in Tony’s voice as he just pulled Loki closer to him. “Yeah, he told me the whole thing…”

“He’s an idiot.”

“… yeah, kind of.”

Loki smiled to himself.

“You know, I think…” Tony hummed as he pressed his face against Loki’s hair, “It takes a real idiot to do heroic things for the people he cares about.”

The god hummed in agreement.

“And it takes a real hero to do stupid things for the people he… does not dislike.”

Loki frowned.

Or rather, it might’ve been bordering more on a childish pout before he again pressed his face against Tony’s chest, inhaling quietly for a moment because it had been some time already since they were this close. Eventually he sighed.

“I changed my mind. I hate him.”

It was a highly failed attempt at muffling a snort before Tony just pressed his lips to Loki’s forehead, the towel having slipped off in his sleep. “Don’t lie, sweetie.”

“Check the title.”

The billionaire just sighed and settled his chin atop Loki’s head again as the god curled into him. “Look at you, smacking me down even when feverish. I think I’m in love.”

The Trickster couldn’t help but stiffen a bit, for once feeling tricked as the fingers that had found their way onto Tony’s shirt tightened their grip. Then he attempted to appear witty but only came out with a mumble. “Don’t lie.”

“… Okay,” Tony said after a long moment, nodding faintly. He dropped the previous line of conversation, settling instead for sighing. “I won’t…. so I guess I’ll mention I’m questioning your interior design skills but despite that I have chosen to sleep in this bed tonight.”

It was an awful lot of words in comparison to most of the other sentences Tony had said, so Loki took a moment to puzzle them all out before just grumbling. “You will become sick.”

“Worth it,” the other man chirped as he settled onto the mattress, Loki still pressed close against him.

The god sighed. “You are an idiot.”

Tony paused, considering the definition of ‘idiot’ for a moment before chuckling and letting his eyes slide shut.

“Maybe just for you.”

* * *

“Now crossing ‘willingly sleep in a villainous lair’ off my bucket list,” Peter grumbled as his eyes refocused, realizing that he really had decided to just tuck himself in inside the guest bedroom the night before. He sighed and fixed his rumpled clothes, trying to look presentable for the public—

Or at least for running down to McDonald’s and grabbing breakfast before having to explain to Aunt May where he disappeared to again.

“Am I a hero yet?” he yawned and continued to talk to himself as he fixed the bed. Something about Loki kind of rang ‘neat freak’ in Peter’s head, successfully suggesting that he put everything back in its proper place before he left.

He was almost dreading seeing the god again after he let Tony in the night before but… well, it was something that simply had to be done.

Running a hand through his hair, his bedhead was only mildly tamed… which was pretty much how he looked every morning. Perhaps that would be good enough. So it was with a sigh that he started to head for the living room to collect his backpack, only slightly bothered by how at home he was with this scenario.

At least until he actually  _got_  to the living room.

He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting (maybe an actually empty room?) but it definitely wasn’t Loki of Asgard settled on one end of the black leather couch, a book settled on the armrest as he flipped through it idly, not minding at all that Tony Stark was fast asleep, head in the god’s lap.

Peter just had to notice the towel on the billionaire’s forehead too.

He groaned.

“Yes, good morning, child,” Loki hummed as he flipped to the next page. “Let no one be mistaken that you are a songbird of any sort.”

Pointedly ignoring the rudeness of that comment, Peter sighed, “Okay, so what did Cap ask for yesterday—”

“Pain killers, liquid medicine, and chicken noodle soup,” the god listed off without pause, then he pointed in the general direction of the counter. All the aforementioned items already sat upon it.

“… but the chicken noodle soup will—”

“Need to be heated up and please do not mistake me for my brother if you presume that I do not know how to use a stove, child.”

The teenager shifted from one foot to another, feeling incredibly outdone before picking up his backpack and grumbling, “I have a name, you know.”

“Indeed I do.” Loki sighed and finally looked up to glance at the boy’s back that was heading for the door, “There is toast on the counter, Parker. My appetite has not recovered. I highly suggest you hurry though.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder and raised a brow, asking two questions—

“It’s not poisoned.” Loki answered the first.

It seemed to be good enough for him as he wandered into the kitchen to receive aforementioned toast.

“And Miss Potts called about thirty minutes ago.” Loki smiled down at his book. “I told her that you would be there in fifteen.”

His grin only grew wider as the sound of heavy feet and couldn’t help but watch as Peter dashed out of the kitchen, backpack swinging as it was only secure on one arm, the piece of toast that was only half-spread with jam in between the teenager’s teeth. He took it out as he opened the door and began with “Oh, you—”

And luckily for him, the slam of the door covered whatever curse that was about to leave his mouth.

It was the second time that Peter had made Loki laugh.

“Pure evil.” Green eyes darted down to the head in his lap as he noticed the slight grin on Tony’s face as well.

The god only gave a slightly contemplative hum as his fingers idly traced along the inventor’s jaw, not an inch of remorse on his features. “Then I wonder what I ought to do with you now that the boy is out, my captive.”

Tony began to sit up at that, brown eyes blinking open as he discarded the towel from his heated forehead, instead nuzzling into Loki’s neck. The god rolled his eyes for a moment before adjusting his body’s temperature level to something slightly colder, warding off the discomfort that came with Tony’s fever. “Well I’m barely able to keep up right now, babe,” the billionaire murmured against chilled skin.

“Well I do believe that this is what you once called the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine,” Loki drawled as his fingers wove themselves into the mortal’s hair, book forgotten now.

“I hate to tell you, Loki, but that routine is more like your entire life.”

It was a battle to tone down his amusement but somehow the god managed only a scoff. Still, he had to lean down a bit and couldn’t help but give Tony a slight reward for his understanding—

“Mm, puzzling it all together even when feverish,” the god recalled the words from the night before as he dipped his head and lowered his volume, “I could be in love.”

* * *

“Peter, I have no idea why you’re calling me about your stupid camera but couldn’t you have done it after going through the motions of ‘hey, how you doing’ first?”

The teenager rolled his eyes as he dodged brushing shoulders with the rest of the people in the crowd, twice as aware as they were even though he was on his phone. “Because you’re going to ask me to come back to the tower and probably bribe me with movie premiere tickets that I’m not even sure how you  _got_  and I’m not sure if I can stay firm with that put on the table. Also, I’m asking you because you take to high places like a—”

“I swear you’re going to make a bird joke and it won’t be clever so stop right there.” Clint sighed and Peter couldn’t help but grin. Hawkeye was just too tempting to mock. “But why do you think  _I_  would’ve taken it?”

“Collecting shiny—”

“I will string you up in your own web—” and Clint’s voice was interrupted as he seemed to address someone else in the room with a stuttering and far less sure, “N-No, not you, Nat—just. Please keep walking.”

Peter couldn’t help laughing before he remembered the actual question. “Well, it’s not that you took it but… I seriously need to find it. It’s not where I left it and that was where my next paycheck was coming from—”

“What, does being the assistant to the assistant not pay enough?”

“How did you know?”

“SHIELD keeps track of everything, Peter.” A pause. “Also Natasha and Pepper were talking about it during breakfast.”

“Stop trying to make your job sound cool, Clint.”

“Excuse you, Mr. Struggling Photographer Without a Camera—”

“You don’t even pretend to have a day job!”

“Exactly! Who wants to pretend to have a day job, not even your dad wants to pretend to have a day job—”

Peter snorted. “You clearly have not listened in to Miss Potts enough if you think Dad even  _pretends_  to have a day job.”

“Would it sound too much like Thor if I said that it is rude to intrude upon the conversations not meant for these ears of mine?”

And Clint, who did not pretend to have a day job and was still settled at the counter in Stark Tower with a cereal bowl of Lucky Charms, waited. He expected at least a laugh and wondered if Peter was laughing so hard that he went silent.

Things were going pretty well, he thought. If he kept this up, he could convince the kid to catch a movie with him and then they’d eventually be going back to Stark Tower and he’d be the lead hero of the Avengers. It played out great in his head.

Except Peter didn’t respond.

“Hey Parker, you there?” Clint asked again.

Eventually the line went dead.

* * *

Peter, who did his best to keep up multiple day jobs despite the fact that he was still a student and has a billionaire claiming to be his father on a regular basis, was nursing his hand on the other side of town after it nearly suffered an impact by a flying café table.

It was a sudden shift as he looked up at the sky, the wind had picked up and he was pretty sure that the bright light that was coming down from overhead had something to do with it. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and wished he hadn’t since it wasn’t too long before he was sent flying with another table that had been thrown around by the sudden miniature storm.

Shaking his head, he looked up to find that the light was gone and something far more menacing was in its place.

“Huge, scaly, big antlers.” He gulped. “And toooootally repulsive.”

At first he had mocked Thor for not having the proper words to describe the thing, and he thought that maybe it was some sort of weird handicap of coming from a different world, but he saw why now. It was menacing, tall as a building, and reminded him oddly of a reindeer with the skin of a handbag.

“Okay, so I guess his description is a little bit better than mine,” Peter huffed as he pushed himself up from the ground and immediately ducked into the alley to strip off his civilian clothes.

He didn’t miss the figure in green that stood upon the creature’s shoulder.

Amora’s grin was wicked as she crossed her arms, eyes alight with amusement. She opened her mouth and magically amplified her voice to speak to the remaining civilians that were still running away. “Mortals! Hear me well—if you bring me the two Asgardians who dwell in your city, the princes Thor and Loki, I shall keep from  _destroying_  it. You have—mmph!”

Her face turned downright murderous as she suddenly felt a barrier set atop her lips, a material that she was already familiar with. If the webbing was present, that meant the Spider-child was—

“Sorry, what was that?” Spider-Man swooped in stood stop one of the buildings, hands around the area where his mouth would be. “Can’t start the game if we don’t have a timer! Guess we’ll have to pause—”

And one day Peter would perhaps remember that Amora was a talented sorceress, the webbing around her mouth evaporating, exposing a deep scowl.

“Well, that didn’t work.”

Spider-Man jumped as he noticed the dark-haired god that stood before him, arms crossed and looking incredibly unimpressed. Peter ran his gaze over the other man, taking note of the fact that Loki’s hair was disheveled and he had some rather distinct bruises and cuts.

“Like you’re one to talk—”

“Can you even pronounce the name of our enemy, Parker?”

“Okay, go on, Mom.”

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Loki outstretched a hand and had the staff materialize in it, “Do you recall the favor you owe me?”

“Well, I’m not about to slit my throat here and now if that’s what you—”

“Do not speak of it is something inane and worthless.” Loki glared at Peter and the boy almost felt his veins freeze—at least until the god turned his head and scoffed lightly. “You got it from your father.”

Peter nearly laughed.

“All that matters is that you clearly do,” the god continued as he countered a blow from Amora with one of his own, making another hand gesture that made the beast groan. Peter had no idea what was going on but couldn’t deny that it was cool. He snapped to attention as Loki spoke again. “Your goal is to escort the civilians else we deal with both this threat now and the aggravation of those meddlesome Avengers after.”

Spider-Man nodded, apparently eager to clear his debt. He was just about to leap when his Spidey Sense kicked in and he hesitated for just a second—enough time to watch an arrow zip by and impale itself in the neck of the bilgesnipe.

It clicked twice before triggering an explosion that made Amora duck.

A thundering roar behind them made both Loki and Peter look back to see Hawkeye settled upon the back of the Hulk with a grin.

“Sorry. What was that about the meddlesome Avengers?”

“Still not cool, Uncle Clint.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” the archer muttered as he jumped off the Hulk’s back, landing on the rooftop and getting a proper look at the enemy they were facing. He whistled low.

“Barton, from what I understand, your Captain is currently tied up in diplomatic matters elsewhere in the state.” Loki stepped forward. “And my brother is a fool and I care not for where he is but it is apparent that he is not  _here_.” Peter winced. “So I implore you to listen to me—your directions are simple.”

Clint slowly raised a brow.

“Aim for the eyes.”

Clint slowly raised his bow.

“Not mine.”

It took a moment but eventually he lowered his bow and began to move for higher ground. Though not without a muttered, “This is the last time I will ever take orders from you” and a juvenile step on Loki’s foot as he passed.

Green eyes moved to the Hulk whose gaze had been fixed upon Peter, who only waved awkwardly, and Loki cleared his throat. “Beast.”

With a heavy move, the Hulk swung his body to face the god and gave an ugly frown.

Peter could’ve sworn he saw Loki flinch.

“Mom,” he cautioned, “Could you… I dunno, not be an ass?”

Loki took a moment to pointedly glare at the boy, though that did not seem to please the Hulk any further. Eventually he cleared his throat and faced his fellow monster and spoke evenly, “Wrestle with its feet. We cannot allow it to proceed.”

The creature gave a heavy breath, looking down at Loki and Peter wondered how much longer the spell that Loki cast to immobilize the bilgesnipe would last. Eventually, the Hulk shook his head and scoffed. “Arrogant god,” he mocked before jumping down and seizing the bilgesnipe’s legs.

Peter watched as Loki’s body seemed to relax, practically breathing a sigh of relief. Eventually the god turned to look at him and raised a brow.

“Please don’t tell me that your memory is so hideous that you—”

“Right, civilians, got it,” Peter cleared his throat and finally took off.

Rolling his eyes at the boy, the god finally turned and stood onto the ledge of the building, eyes narrowing.

“And finally, Amora,” he met her gaze. “We shall finish what we started.”

* * *

Natasha had no idea what to expect.

It was obvious that something was up as soon as she got out of the shower and found that both Bruce and Clint had taken off and it was half a second before her phone rang and she received an ear full of angry Nick Fury wondering why there was a huge, scaly,  _thing_  with big antlers messing up downtown.

…. so perhaps she had half an idea of what to expect.

However the Norse God of Mischief battling with the Enchantress and Spider-Man ushering civilians to safety came as a total surprise.

Luckily, she did follow Fury’s advice and brought along heavy artillery.

“Hawkeye,” she spoke into her omnipresent communication device, knowing that Clint always wore his when out.

“Nat,” he exhaled as he loosed another arrow, two rooftops down from her. “Get the throat. Loki says we can knock it out and transport it back. And you’re two notches too far to the left.”

She adjusted her hold on her weapon and couldn’t help but smile as she fingered the trigger, “You’re taking Loki’s word.”

“Just fire the damn bazooka.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

However it was at that moment that Loki jolted into awareness of something past Amora’s onslaught, noticing that if the bilgesnipe fell then, it would fall onto the building behind it.

Spider-Man had ducked in to make sure that there was no one else inside and had not yet returned.

Loki cursed long and hard and foreign as he was forced to knock Amora aside. His goal was to distract her and keep her from using her magic on anyone else who couldn’t take it but priorities were now shifted. She was momentarily knocked out of the picture and he hoped that he had enough time—

It took a fierce channeling of energy and it didn’t involve half as much of a light show as before, but a wordy incantation later, the unconscious bilgesnipe was sent spiraling into its home realm as opposed to onto the building.

He breathed in just as he caught Amora’s wicked smile in the corner of his eye—

And next the whizz of web shooting past his ear that muffled the surprised cry of the Enchantress.

“I will probably never get tired of doing that,” Peter laughed as he landed next to Loki.

The God of Mischief merely grinned as the Black Widow placed the special Asgardian cuffs onto the wrists of the Enchantress.

“So?” the teenager couldn’t help but continue to run his mouth as he turned and looked up at the god. “How’s it feel to be on the side of heroes?”

Loki surveyed the horizon and recognized the spot of red and gold that was fast approaching.

“Too predictable,” he lied.

* * *

“You’re all useless without me,” Natasha smiled as she waved a French fry in their faces.

Clint scoffed and reclined back in his seat, rolling his eyes, “Do I really need to remind you that you had a  _bazooka_?”

“It really is your fault for not thinking ahead, Barton,” Loki hummed before taking another sip of Tony’s soda.

“Babe, you are the one who ordered the Watermelon Mango Swirl, you should be held responsible for your choi—” and of course Tony was cut off when his lips were suddenly occupied by Loki’s.

Everyone at the table groaned, except for Natasha who just rolled her eyes and Bruce who was too absorbed in his veggie burger.

(So really it was just Clint and Peter, but it was loud enough to sound like  _everyone_.)

“Just jealous,” Tony spat as he wrapped an arm around Loki’s waist, taking another bite out of his own burger.

Peter sighed and wiped his fingers off on the napkin, shoving his empty tray forward before standing, “Alright, this is a convenient time to leave the table. I’m going for seconds, who wants—”

“Double bacon cheeseburger!”

“Chocolate milkshake!”

“Veggie dog!”

“For Bruce to be a man!”

“Not everyone likes meat as much as you, Stark—”

“Oh my  _goooood_.”

“Yes?”

“None of you are respectable adults,” Peter sighed as he jotted down what everyone wanted before going to wait in line.

Despite the fact that The Avengers had all walked into this random burger joint, it seemed that everyone was either too in awe or just afraid of the bazooka that rested next to Natasha’s foot to approach. Either way, it made life a little simpler and he could pretend that it was just a basic family dinner—

Even though there was nothing basic about it.

The boy glanced back over to the table where Tony was stealing Bruce’s fries, Natasha was bugging Clint some more about his apparent lack of use, and then suddenly Clint was taking a bite out of Bruce’s burger and Tony was resisting from making an inappropriate comment and—

Where was Loki?

“They’re all rather foolish, aren’t they?” the god hummed as he stood beside the boy. “Well, aside from Natasha.”

He jumped again before glaring. “Could you not do that?”

“Certainly.”

“But you won’t.”

“Now you’re catching on.” He smirked.

Heaving a sigh, Peter looked down at the napkin that held all the orders before looking to Loki, “Did you have some sort of crazy custom order for beef imported from Ireland and lettuce imported from Finland and water from the fresh tears of mermaids?”

“With golden apple slices from the goddess Freya herself on the side.”

“So it  _was_  apples,” Peter gasped. “Thank you. That kept me up at night.”

“I had thought so.” Loki hummed before continuing on to an entirely different topic. “So do you recall the favor you owe me?”

“You mean the favor that was filled once I got everyone clear and therefore the Avengers off both of our asses?”

The God of Mischief raised his brows in a way that would have fooled most people into believing his innocence. “How funny, Parker, I do not once recall mentioning that  _that_  task was to be enough to fill your favor.”

Just as he was about to open his mouth with Loki’s exact words that clarified that Peter was off the hook, he closed it.

Because those words did not exist.

“You—”

“How may I help you, sir?”

Gritting his teeth and purposely putting on the most pleasant face he could, Peter quickly gave his orders and used his Stark Industries card to pay it off. Then it was shuffling off to the side with Loki following along, looking perfectly pleased with himself, and hissing, “You  _suck_.”

The god hummed and examined his nails. “Well, you could always ask your fa—”

“No, stop!”

Loki laughed. Oh, Peter was entertaining enough to make that happen quite often, it seemed.

“Okay so—” the teenager groaned and tried to imagine what on earth was planned for him now. “I’m not slitting my throat, right? Because seriously, that would just not be cool and I know you said that like practically a month ago but I was lying about what kept me up at night before, it’s actually—”

“No Parker, you will not be ordered to do so.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Then what  _will_  I have to do?”

The Trickster paused for a moment, probably weighing his words. Then he met the young boy’s gaze and spoke evenly.

“You are to return to Stark Tower to undergo the rest of the examination to see whether or not you shall be accepted as a member of the Avengers. Once you receive the ruling, it is up to you whether or not you must continue to stay there. Naturally you are always welcome to visit your aunt, but for all intents and purposes, the Avengers floor will again provide your housing,” Loki rattled off, sounding much like a contract.

Peter bit his lip.

“You know… you’re the last person I expected to ask me to come back.” Peter sighed and spoke honestly, his brown eyes searching Loki’s green ones. Was there an ulterior motive here? He thought that somehow they’d managed to find some sort of tenuous connection, but he was afraid of breaking all of it again.

“I am the first person to ask you to do this, Parker.” Loki’s brow arched and he tilted his chin up. “All the others sought for you to come ‘home’, did they not?”

The teenager’s brows knitted together. Now that Loki mentioned it…

“Your home is where you define it to be,” the god explained and looked elsewhere. “I merely seek that you return to Stark Tower. That will fulfill the qualifications for your favor that you owe.”

Peter opened his mouth and glanced over to the table of loud, bustling Avengers. “It’s… It’s not gonna be home.”

The door burst open then. Steve and Thor, dressed in civilians clothes, walked in together at a synchronized pace, their shoulders touching as they both kept their gazes glued upon the screen of the StarkFone in front of them.

“According to this, Peter should be right—”

“Hi, Uncle Steve,” the teenager sighed.

The two blondes immediately straightened in response, the phone suddenly tucked away into Steve’s jeans pocket as he cleared his throat and offered a vague grin. “Hi…. Peter. Uh, I—”

“Seem to be getting better with technology,” Peter laughed. He turned as he heard their order number called and quickly guided the tray into the soldier’s hands. “Can you bring that over to the table? You have a lot to get caught up on.”

“Indeed we do!” Thor bellowed as he gave a jolly grin and turned to Loki, “Brother! Had you heard of the visitation of a bilgesnipe in the city? ‘Tis a shame that I was too late to see it! Certainly, it brings back memories of—”

“Bloodshed, terrible roars, and hideous breath.” Loki rolled his eyes without clarifying who he was talking about. Then he glared faintly. “Thor, I am in the middle of speaking with Peter. I do not wish to address you at the moment.”

Peter winced as he caught the tone that said ‘or ever’.

However Thor seemed largely oblivious to it, merely smiling at what appeared to be some bonding happening between his dear brother and the Man of Spiders. “Certainly, brother, join us soon!”

He turned and Steve followed after, clearly tempted to take a sip of the milkshake that sat on the tray and barely resisting. Loki and Peter watched them and gave a collective sigh as the table erupted with a cheer at the appearance of the muscleheads.

“So it ‘won’t be home’?” Loki prompted.

Rolling his eyes, Peter looked back to the happy team gathered around and then to the smug expression of the god.

Without much thought put into it, he grabbed Loki by the elbow and started to drag him back to the chaos.

“No, it’s not home,” he laughed. “But… eventually. It might be.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is one last installment of the series left to go! It should tie up all the loose strings and it'll just take a little bit more time to write. Thank you so much for reading and your comments and kudos set my heart aflutter. (:


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